Now even that was hearsay. And Palpatine's carefully-created gossip was so easy to spread, when whispered into the right ears--so easy to turn into paranoia.
Only the fanatically loyal Royal Guard who had secured him in the cell beneath the Palace, and a few high-ranking individuals, knew the truth--and her master would have been very careful to underline his desire for silence, of that she was sure.
He had become a cipher, an enigma--a shadow.
Just like her.
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To be continued...
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Chapter 22
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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
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Grey winter light streamed in through the tall panes of the Practice Hall, a vast, wooden-floored space which Mara herself had used for lightsaber drills in the past. It was, of course, permanently off-limits now; had been so for almost four months, Mara had heard whispered, Skywalker occupying it every day from dawn to dusk, alone unless Palpatine was there. Practicing--always practicing.
Hour after hour, day after day, week after week. Dedication bordering on obsession.
Mara walked past the six Red Guard who stood to attention outside, not sure if they were there to keep Skywalker in or keep others out. Probably the latter, she decided--there wasn't much that even six Red Guard could do to stop an armed Sith if he decided to leave.
Sith--despite what the Emperor called him in public. But even this fact was becoming familiar now so that, much as she was aware that there was something different about the now-insular Skywalker, some new twist in his tense, wired bearing which hinted at a volatile, explosive edge, she'd come to terms with his new status and standpoint. Maybe even found it intriguing...in a strictly professional, uninvolved way, of course.
She found herself fascinated to see what he would do next, waiting to see when that quicksilver temperament would erupt. But in the two weeks she'd been back, despite his apparent knife-edge disposition, he'd remained coolly detached from everything around him, herself included, so that she had no better idea of him now than the moment she'd been ushered from his quarters that first night.
And she really wanted to know.
So today was a welcome opportunity; Palpatine had ordered her to deliver a message. Yes, she could have done it by comm to his apartments or his Aides, but she now had official justification to speak to Skywalker--and she wasn't going to waste it.
With no idea what to expect she entered the hall, eyes instantly drawn to the far side of the massive hangar-sized room where, surrounded by six specialist dueling droids, Skywalker was dressed in fitted pants and an athletic shirt, both immaculate white.
"Stop program," he said quietly, deactivating his lightsaber as all the droids froze in place at the order.
Mara stepped forward, not surprised at the droids--they were generally banned in the Palace Towers, but no human could offer fast enough reflexes to challenge a Force-adept, so her master kept these here for his own use. Mara too utilized them from time to time--one at a time though, their reaction times slowed to that of a normal human. Lord Vader used them at their maximum capacity, fighting several at once. She'd seen her master do the same, but...
She frowned uneasily, burning with curiosity, frustrated that he had instantly stopped as she'd entered the room.
He turned... Now, at this distance, breathing heavily and with his growing hair in disarray, he looked very much like the man who had first arrived here long months ago, so that without even realizing it, Mara smiled easily at him.
He only frowned slightly in reply, clearly wary of her unexpected presence. Her smile fell away, but the tingle in her ribcage was not so easily removed. "The Emperor commands your presence in the State Room at five," she said simply, still walking forward, her voice echoing about the cavernous hall.
"Fine," he replied tersely, already turning back to the stationary droids.
Mara kept walking forward though, only stopping when she was within a few feet of him.
He didn't turn back and she didn't leave, the status quo remaining for long moments, in which Mara noted the deep, heavy scars on his arms and back, still new enough to show angry red.
Just as she was about to speak he turned, cutting her off. "Was there something else?"
She bit down on the desire to issue a challenge, knowing that was what he wanted--that the curt interruption was intended to push her away--and instead took a less obvious route. "Are they any good?"
His frown pulled the fine scars on his face, only visible as she'd neared him. "What?"
"The droids--are they any good?"
He took a breath in, as if counting to ten, voice level and restrained. "They suffice."
"Only six?"
He glanced back, annoyed, his expression quite unassuming and very Luke. "That's all there are left, right now."
Mara smiled, realizing that he hadn't recognized her sarcasm.
"How about a human opponent?" She unfastened her short fitted jacket, shrugging it off without waiting for an answer.
He looked at her for long moments, and again she had the distinct feeling that he was counting to ten before speaking.
"I'd say no, but clearly that's not an option," he replied dryly as she turned and walked to the armaments store at the side wall. She didn't miss his fast glance up to the lofty ceiling though--to the exact spot where the surveillance lens was hidden.
"Do you know how to use a lightsaber?" His flat voice was neither interested nor indifferent.
"I know a lot of things," Mara said without looking back.
Reaching the store, she noticed that all six practice sabers were still there, and glanced back to look at the saber in Skywalker's hand; it was his own, a live blade.
She took two practice sabers, capable of delivering a fair jolt but nothing more, solid when impacting against another blade, but passing through any other object.
"But I don't play games with live blades," she said, walking back towards him.
"I don't play games," he replied simply, though his tone was not threatening.
She reached him, holding the plain practice hilt out in silence.
"I won't hit you," he assured.
"You might change your mind when I get a few good blows in," Mara teased easily, growing more comfortable in his presence again.
He raised an eyebrow to indicate just how unlikely he thought that was, and Mara allowed herself a subtle smile; he was in for a surprise. She was privately confident, having trained with her master since her early teens, intensively enough to hold her own against a Jedi--he had made sure of that.
Finally, reluctant and clearly operating against his better judgment but too curious to turn this down, Skywalker threw the dark, matte hilt of his own saber to the side without looking. It didn't arc, but launched smoothly away towards the wall, eventually coming to a gentle, controlled rest on the floor near the corner.
He took the practice hilt, following her to the center of the room, where she turned about to face him, lifting her hilt up to ready position and igniting the pure white blade.